


I Will Possess Your Heart

by touchmytardis



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Creepy Childermass, M/M, Magic, Modern! AU!, Segundus knitting, implied het so sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:13:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22901524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchmytardis/pseuds/touchmytardis
Summary: Imagine falling in love for the first time, with an absolute stranger, in the wine aisle of Waitrose. Imagine finding yourself at a complete loss for words for the first time in your adult life. Imagine laying your eyes on a person who you just know, instantly and instinctively, will change everything.
Relationships: John Childermass/John Segundus, John Segundus/OMC
Comments: 17
Kudos: 16





	1. October 21st – Love at first sight

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I'm actually writing this. It started out as something else, was inspired by about 20 different tumblr posts and very much inspired by my own creepiness.
> 
> And music, lots of music, each chapter is named after a Very Suitable Song that will be added to the playlist which you can find right here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VlhFXKNk8xIqhj3yJdp5v?si=Er2LoxqCRGOn3OSJWS3AEg

_Imagine being thirty-two years old and realizing that whatever you had thought was love was some imitation of love. A strange hologram of love projected onto the various women you had surely been in love with for three months or two years. Imagine falling in love for the first time, with an absolute stranger, in the wine aisle of Waitrose. Imagine finding yourself at a complete loss for words for the first time in your adult life. Imagine laying your eyes on a person who you just know, instantly and instinctively, will change everything._

* * *

There had been something different about the air that morning, it could have been the arrival of Winter, greeting the world with his first fall of snow. It had been weeks since the lawn behind the house had begun turning red from the leaves of the two chestnut trees that took up most of the back yard, so Winter was most likely not too far off. John Childermass brushed off a few leaves from the bench under one of the trees before sitting down, a cup of coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The shift in the atmosphere didn’t feel like snow or even colder weather, Childermass thought. A soft breeze rustled through the leaves, carrying whispers of some unknown change, whispers of which Childermass could not make out a single word. However, the promise of some change was enough to stir something deep within him, he thought of magic and of mystical roads leading to places long forgotten, of birds flying across the moors of his childhood and of a hand with nails painted deep red brushing against his cheek. He stubbed out his cigarette and walked back to the house, unlocked the front door and sat down at his desk.

The day went on as most days, it was quiet and the first customer didn’t walk in until right before noon.

“Hello. No, we don’t have anything by John le Carré, try Waterstones.”

Childermass didn’t realize that those were the first words he had said out loud all day until after the customer had left, and it did very little to improve his mood. A restlessness had been building inside him since that morning, and being restless on a day when very few people wanted to buy overpriced used books was slightly worse than being restless on a busy day. He was irritable and bored. He would, of course, normally keep himself occupied, but when he tried writing it felt as though the words lost their meaning as soon as he put pen to paper. Reading was worse, he could barely make it through one page before realizing that his mind was somewhere else entirely. He didn’t even know where, he found himself getting lost in thoughts that had very little substance. Clouds of mist that seemed to call for his attention but which seemed to disperse whenever he got too close.

A few more customers stopped by before Mr Norrell called, as he did every day, at 17.30 to ask about the day and whether or not anyone had asked to go upstairs. No one had asked to go upstairs, he had sold a couple of books and they’d received about ten emails from publishers and local authors.

“Well, yes. Forward anything interesting to me, otherwise I’ll have a look on Saturday.”

“I always do, sir. Anything else?”

“No, no. Just… remember to dust the shelves.”

“’Course. Night.”

Childermass hung up the phone (literally, Mr Norrell insisted that the store should have a “normal” phone), and sighed. He had already spent half the day dusting, as there had been nothing else to do. He turned the lights off, locked the door and went into the flat at the back of the house. It had one entrance through the upper floor and another via a long set of stairs leading up from the garden. Childermass had lived there for the past ten years, and he had a feeling he’d live there for at least ten more. Half of the house consisted of the book shop, a quarter consisted of storage (for books, of course) and the last quarter was Childermass’ home. It consisted of a small bedroom, a large bathroom and an ever larger room which served as both living room and kitchen. He drank a large cup of coffee, took a quick shower and then went outside. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he had to see if he could find another trace of the strange feeling from this morning.

He walked around aimlessly for half an hour, casting glances in all directions, waiting for that one place he knew he was supposed to go to to appear. The place appeared, and he stopped in front of Waitrose, a shop he had only visited once or twice before. There was nothing strange at all about the cars parked outside or the parents pushing their kids around in trolleys or the teenagers sitting outside drinking energy drinks. Even the air felt extraordinarily ordinary here and Childermass was beginning to think he had been mistaken about there being something different happening. He entered the store and picked up a basket, and told himself to act normal, because he felt off, as though whatever had been stirred within him that morning had left him slightly… unhinged. Maybe there hadn’t been anything strange stirring in the air, maybe it was just his mind going soft from spending the better part of ten years in a dark book shop. He kept expecting to sense some magic being done, or to find a cursed object hidden in a freezer, but there didn’t seem to be anything strange about the place. He put a salad and three bags of coffee beans into his basket and headed for the wine aisle.

Childermass usually scoffed at the concept of “love at first sight”, and he quite often rolled his eyes at the concept of “love”, he had experienced lust, and things he had thought were love, but never the kind you read about in books (not that he read that kind of book) or see in the movies. On October 21st, Childermass experienced love at first sight, and he felt a sensation even stronger than that of any magic. He was reaching for a bottle of Malbec (middle-shelf) when he saw someone approaching in the corner of his eye, he looked up and saw a young man standing about a metre away, by the whites. The change the morning had promised with its diffuse whispers filled his entire being, it surged through his mind and heart and soul and he found himself incapable of moving, incapable of looking away and incapable of speaking. All Childermass could do was stare and feel all the things he had no idea he could feel. The man looked as though he was in his twenties, both slimmer and shorter than Childermass, with short brown hair that looked incredibly soft and dressed in blue jeans, a knitted black sweater and a thick brown scarf. He found himself wondering if this was what the man usually wears, of if it’s a causal outfit he throws on when going grocery shopping, or maybe it’s just laundry day. Childermass might have struck up a conversation if he had felt more like himself.

“Those clothes look really good on you,” he might have said, or possibly “you make blue jeans and Converse look classy,” and most likely “can I touch your hair?”. He would have been charming.

When the man reached for a bottle of white wine, Childermass quietly wondered if he was going to share it with someone. He looked down into the man’s basket, and saw a box of pasta and a jar of pasta sauce, which he assumed meant that he was at least not going to be cooking for someone else. There was a carton of juice there too, and Childermass found some strange comfort when he noticed that they bought the same kind of orange juice. He didn’t even realize that he was still holding the bottle of red until he felt it starting to slip from his hand, he quickly placed it in his basket and just like that, the moment was over. The other man walked away and Childermass hadn’t even seen what colour his eyes were, or heard his voice or felt his skin against his own.


	2. October 22nd - Feeling of Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Childermass forgets how to sleep and eat, he does not forget the man from the store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CHANGED THE TITLE OF THE STORY.
> 
> the playlist I'd made for this story was already titled I Will Possess Your Heart, so...

_Some people seem to think that being infatuated is less consuming when you’re an adult than the feeling of infatuation you experience at 13, 18 or 23. They think that you can act more rationally and that the infatuation doesn’t impair your daily life. That you don’t lie awake at night and think about the person, possibly making up scenarios in which the other person is next to you. The people who make those assumptions have most likely not fallen in love since their teenage years._

* * *

John Childermass had always been rather pleased with the set of skills he had acquired throughout the years. In addition to being a scholar (with a Master of Arts in comparative religion), he was very good with books – ordering and sorting and restoring minor flaws. He knew the ins and out of printing, being close friends with a few publishers as well as printing his own journals. His work made sure he was good with computers and colleagues in the book business. He did not much enjoy the company of people, but he was very good at both reading and manipulating them, and when needed, he could find people. He desperately needed to find a person now, but there was absolutely nothing to go on, so Childermass decided that he would have to spend his evenings at Waitrose in Layerthorpe until he saw the person again.

Childermass didn’t sleep much that night, but still woke up at 7, his entire body tingling with energy. He was sure he would learn something about the man today. After two cups of coffee and three cigarettes, he opened the store two hours early and got to work. Thursdays were always a bit more busy than Monday through Wednesday, and so he wanted to get through the administrative tasks before any customers arrived. He drank more coffee, sent emails, placed orders for the latest volume of The Skeptical Occultist, went through his usual list of used book-sellers to see if anything interesting had appeared, dusted and went outside for another cigarette. By the time 10 o’clock arrived, he realized he had forgotten to eat breakfast and grabbed a packet of crisps from the cupboard in the storage room. They tasted like cardboard and Childermass decided that he probably wasn’t hungry after all.

The next two hours were busy, and Childermass felt his heart leap every time the door opened. It could be him. It was never him. It was mostly patrons, asking if that one book had arrived, making small talk about new papers and some even buying books. One customer even wanted a book from the upstairs section, though it wasn’t a personal favourite of his (neither book nor customer), it always brought Childermass a tiny spark of joy whenever he got to sell one of the magical books. He closed the store at 12.30, and drove to the university. He stopped to buy more cigarettes on the way, he had always smoked more when he was feeling stressed, and this new feeling in his body was close to stress. Only a bit happier, but it was still impossible for him to relax, and a part of him wished he had cancelled the meeting with his old professor. Another part of him was relieved, because staying in the store hadn’t really been an option. Anna greeted him with a smile when he arrived at her office, and they spent an hour discussing the process of her research (slow), some new journals (mixed quality) and Childermass’ latest acquisitions for the store (few). At 13.30, Anna remembered that a student was waiting for her, so they got up and left the small room.

For the second time in not even 24 hours, Childermass was looking at the most gorgeous man he had ever seen. He was leaning against the wall opposite Anna’s office, he was wearing the same black sweater as the day before, but no scarf. He had large headphones on his ears, and fumbled to pull them down when he saw them. His eyes were brown and they were looking right at him. It felt wrong, somehow, that they were looking into each others eyes for the first time and nothing out of the ordinary happened. Childermass had thought that the world would stop for a minute, that his own objective reality would be shared by them both, and that he would at least get to touch his hair.

A couple of seconds passed before Anna spoke.

“John, I’m so sorry. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Childermass assumed that the confusion he felt was apparent to her.

“Hah, right. Mr Segundus, if you’ll just wait in my room, I’ll escort the other John out.”

John Segundus offered them a quick smile before picking his bag up from the floor and walking into the office.

Childermass spent the rest of the day in his car, parked outside the campus. He didn’t see him again, but that was fine. He wouldn’t go to Waitrose. He didn’t need to. He had a name, and he would learn everything he needed to know as soon as he got home. His dinner was a frozen pizza, he didn't even eat half of it. He had found John Segundus' Facebook page.


	3. October 24th – Pictures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU THOUGHT I HAD ABANDONED THIS DIDN'T YOU!?
> 
> never!
> 
> (I wrote 80% of this 4-5 months ago, 15% a couple of months ago and the rest just now.)

_John Segundus’ Facebook profile is very private, there are only three photos you can see without being a friend. The first one is the profile picture. John Segundus is laying on the ground, the grass is bright green against his brown hair, he is wearing sunglasses and he is laughing. No knitted sweater because it looks like summer. It looks as though someone else has taken the photo. A friend? A girlfriend? The second photo is in black and white. John Segundus is wearing a black suit and is turned away from the camera. Even though the suit is too big, it looks very good on him. The third one is a photo of the ocean. John Segundus isn’t in it._

* * *

Childermass had saved the three photos from John Segundus’ Facebook onto his phone before going to bed on Thursday. He felt warm when he saw John Segundus laughing, it brightened his face and made him look even more beautiful. A momentarily pang of jealousy had hit Childermass when he realized that whoever took the photo got to see John Segundus this happy. He looked at the photo before he fell asleep and looked at it again when he woke up. He slept a bit better that night, perhaps because he had slept poorly the night before, or possibly because he knew the name of John Segundus.

He had had memorized every pixel of the photo. There was a strand of hair that fell over his ear and it probably would have tickled if he hadn’t been distracted, the sunglasses looked cheap but still so very good on him. The laugh was the most wonderful Childermass had ever seen, it felt entirely genuine and he had dimples. Before opening the store that morning, he printed two copies of the photo and put one in his wallet and the other one under his pillow. It felt comforting, knowing that even if his phone and computer died he would still be able to look at him and look at the dimples.

He brought his laptop to his desk in the shop, and spent most of the day googling John Segundus. He had studied in Bristol before moving to York, his thesis had been on Welsh folk practices, and Childermass printed a copy of it. His looked for him on all the usual sites, but found that John Segundus either didn’t spend a lot of time networking online, or maybe he did it more anonymously. He downloaded all the dating apps he could think of (and some he’d never heard of), but didn’t find him there either (he made one account as himself and one as a woman, but had no luck with either). Maybe because he’s already in a relationship. Or maybe he just didn’t use dating apps.

Childermass went out on Friday night, had his dinner at a restaurant he knew was frequented by students (he was sure John Segundus didn’t do all the things other students did, but it was the best idea he had) and then went from pub to pub to club to campus until it was close to three in the morning and he realized that if John Segundus had been out, he had missed him. He walked home and fell asleep in his clothes. He woke up four hours later, thankful that he’d stopped drinking long before he went home the night before. After a shower and two cups of coffee, his headache was almost gone, and he made it downstairs to greet Mr Norrell with two minutes to spare.

They had these meetings every Saturday morning, and they were always tedious. They would go through mail that Childermass had already dealt with. Mr Norrell would ask Childermass about this or that book – books that he had kept close tabs on for months (or years) already and that he had promised he would obtain if he ever saw one, no matter the price. Some Saturdays Childermass would list all the shops he had contacted about a particular book, other Saturdays Mr Norrell was pleased with the knowledge that Childermass had not forgotten the books. He would ask about the upstairs area, if anyone had gone there and if anything had been sold. Childermass was sure he had already answered this.

“A customer wanted to go upstairs but changed their mind when I told them I had to accompany them. Another customer walked in and asked for Azoetia, but was perfectly fine with me fetching it. So I sold a copy of the Azoetia.”

“Another one?" Mr Norrell spoke with his usual tone of resentment. "These scholars are so horribly predictable! Sometimes I think the publisher might have enchanted all the occultists in England, there really is no other explanation for its popularity.”

“Well, sir, I’m sure you would rather they buy Chumbley than something you actually enjoy?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Anything else?”

“Anything from the Society?”

Childermass had completely forgotten that the York Society of Magicians had held their monthly meeting this Wednesday. He had been so distracted that he had forgotten all about them. He never attended their meetings, but would meet up with a couple of members over drinks to discuss whatever had been discussed at the meeting. Usually on Saturdays.

“I’ll see them tonight. Probably nothing interesting happened since I haven’t heard anything.”

At ten to ten, Childermass opened the shop and sat behind his desk. Mr Norrell sat in the back office with his cup of tea to read the journals he couldn’t read at home.

Childermass had almost finished reading Dyn Hysbys and Black Dogs - Folk Beliefs of Northern Wales by John Segundus when the first customer came in.

“Welcome, let me know if you need anything.”

Childermass spoke without looking up, he was reading the conclusions and was absolutely fascinated by John Segundus’ comparisons between the black dogs of Northern Wales and Northern England.

“Hello,” a soft voice spoke, “I was told you have the best occult section in all of Yorkshire.”

Childermass looked up, and right into the wonderful brown eyes of John Segundus.


	4. October 21st-24th - Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a brief glimpse into the world of our blushing beauty, John Segundus

October 21st - 22nd

John Segundus had spent fifteen minutes picking the wine (these 15 minutes had included a long conversation with Emma), he’d been nervous and excited and had wanted everything to be just right. At 7.30, he was reconsidering his choice of food, wine, clothes and music. His mother would’ve scolded him if she knew he’d bought a _jar_ of tomato sauce and probably wept if she knew he had bought _white_ wine (Argentinian?) to go with it. His mind was clearly elsewhere. He’d put on a white shirt, and while it looked good on him (at least Will thought so), it would surely be stained by the end of the night. Sighing, he went over to the fridge to try and figure something else out. He would probably make it to the store and back before Will got there, but he was a bit worried that he would start sweating from running to and from the store, and he wouldn’t have the time for another shower. He pulled out some mushrooms, cream and garlic and started making a slightly more dignified sauce to go with the pasta.

John left the sauce to simmer and checked the time, 7.50. His stomach was full of butterflies and his chest full of birds and he had no idea how he would be able to eat. He went to the hallway mirror to check his hair again. Still too plain and brown, still too floppy, but at least it was clean and soft. He walked around in the small flat, trying to find something to occupy himself with: stirring the sauce, fluffing up the pillows, fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt (one or two buttons undone?) and checking his phone at least twenty times. Was Will not going to text him? Would he just… show up? He tried sitting down on the couch, but found himself far too nervous and kept bouncing his leg and checking the phone. There was finally a knock at the door. John Segundus leapt out of the couch and covered the short distance to the door in seconds, swung it open and felt as though he was finally complete again.

Will entered the flat, closed the door and put his duffel bag down. With that warm, familiar smile never offered anyone but John, he said “Hi” and John answered by pushing him back against the door, throwing his arms around his boyfriend and kissing him. When they finally broke apart, John pressed light kisses to his cheeks and whispered things Will was sure he would never forget against his skin. John turned the stove off and blew the candles out while Will freshened up. They didn’t eat the pasta or drink the wine until three hours later, wrapped in blankets and each other.

They had spent almost two months apart, ever since John had moved to York to pursue his master’s degree in the history of magic. Will was going to stay in London, since most of his life was there, including their flat and his family. John was happy in York, the university had the best magic department in the country, he had gotten lucky with a flat off-campus and he’d made a few friends. But a part of him had been missing, he just hadn’t been able to fully admit it to himself until that same day, when Will had called him. Told him that he’d rented their flat out to a friend and that he’d quit his job and was coming up. It was as though he’d been holding his breath, and he could finally let it out, and with it came all the feelings he had been avoiding. He hadn’t been whole without William and now he was finally here. Life was perfect.

John Segundus missed his first lecture the next day. After a meeting with a senior professor about his thesis, he’d headed to the bookshop she had suggested he visited, but it was closed. Too bad, John thought as he hurried home to his William. They spent the day walking around York. The night, and the following day was spent mostly in bed. Sometimes the kitchen counter. Sometimes the shower.

October 24th

Having neglected most things related to school for the better part of two days, John Segundus decided to return to Norrell’s bookshop on Saturday.

“You know I’ll come with you if you ask, right?” Will asked from behind the magazine he was reading. The Sun, bless him. John let out a laugh before putting his tea mug down and leaning over the small table to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Yes, I know. I also know you’ll be begging me to leave within an hour.”

Half an hour later, John Segundus got off his bike in front of the strange building. If he hadn’t been here before and seen the sign, he would’ve been sure this was the wrong place. It felt more like someone’s house than a shop. Upon entering, he changed his mind. It was absolute heaven. A large part of the house had been transformed into a bookshop, dark shelves seemed to lead deeper than the building’s length. It had the smell and lighting of all his favourite used bookshops, dusty and dark and empty. Well, almost empty. Opposite the entrance was a desk and behind the desk was a man with dark hair and a white button-down shirt. John couldn’t see his face, because he was reading something, but he assumed this was the man he had seen outside the professor’s office the other day. He spoke with a deep, gravelly voice that John couldn’t help but find it a bit sexy.

“Welcome, let me know if you need anything.”

John was contemplating just looking through the shelves by himself, but decided that it might take more time than necessary away from his work, so he approached the desk.

“Hello, I was told you have the best occult section in all of Yorkshire.”

The man (what was his name?) looked up at him and his expression went from bored to shocked instantly.

“Yes, yes. We do.” the man responded, his voice sounded different from the greeting he had received upon entering, a bit unsteady. Maybe he recognized him and was trying to place him?

“Oh, sorry. Maybe I should’ve introduced myself first. We… Uh, sorry. We sort of met outside Anna’s office the other day? She was the one who told me I should come here.”

“Ah.”

“So, hi,” John reached his hand out and waited for the other man to grab it, but he only stared at it. Was something wrong with him? “I’m John, John Segundus.”

The strange man behind the desk finally seemed to wake up from whatever confused state he had been in and took his hand. “I’m John Childermass, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Formally, I mean. I remember you from the other day.” A dry but warm hand shook his own, and John thought that he must have really been distracted that day, to have forgotten someone with the same name as him.

“And you,” John said, quickly pulling his hand away when he realized neither had let go. “So, could you show me your section on magic?”

The other John raised an eyebrow and raised his chin, showing John the narrow staircase behind the desk. Oh. This place really was big.

“We don’t allow customers access without one of us accompanying them, though. I suppose Anna told you that, since you’re here today?”

“Uh, no. At least, I don’t think so? I came here after I’d met with her but it was dark.”

The other John’s eyes grow wide again, as though he’s absolutely shocked that John had been here the other day. Did they not have a lot of customers? “Oh… right. I was out on business. Mr Norrell is always here on Saturdays, otherwise it’s just me, so today is the best day.”

John nodded slowly, unsure what to do. Was there a secret password needed to get to the books? Was he supposed to say something? The other John’s gaze was still on him, and he was getting uncomfortable. He felt his cheek flush, and started to suspect he wasn’t going to get any help here. This man was mocking him or testing him or something, and he had no idea why.

But then the other John gave him a short, sideways smile and a small nod. He seemed to be in a hurry to clear something from his desk before he spoke again, “I’ll only be a minute, wait here.” and then he disappeared into the shop.

He did eventually get help, by an elderly man who was just as odd as the other John, but at least he tried to hide his strangeness. The upstairs area was smaller than rest of the bookshop, but considering these were all books on subjects that interested him, it was plenty. Mr Norrell (he had not given John his first name) showed him which books were for sale and which were not, which books he may look through freely and which he would need to ask Mr Norrell to bring him. It soon became apparent that to Mr Norrell “looking through a book freely” involved telling him the title and then listening to his opinion on every single book. It was exhausting, and he made much less progress than he hoped for. When his phone started vibrating at 3 pm, he felt somewhat annoyed, because he had actually managed to take a few pages of notes from a book by then, and had wanted to finish.

He quickly sent a message instead of answering.

“10 mins x”

Will was used to it by now, so John only felt a bit guilty about it. He finished the chapter he was working on, and then quickly looked through the index to see what else he might find in it, and then the other John’s (once again deep) voice came from down the stairs.

“Mr Norrell, Mr Segundus. It’s nearly four. We close at four.”

Already?

“Oh, time flies, doesn’t it?” Mr Norrell smiled, a small smile that looked somewhat forced. “I forgot to ask you! What exactly are you working on?”

“I’m still not entirely sure,” John was clearing his things away as he spoke. “I’m most interested in folk beliefs and The King of Ravens.” He put the last book away and followed Mr Norrell down the stairs.

“Oh! I wish you had told me sooner. Childermass is somewhat of an expert on John Uskglass.”

Oh no.

John thanked Mr Norrell for his help, and walked out the door. He’d just dialed Will when he heard the door open again, he quickly pushed the red button and turned around. The other John. Of course.

“John!”

“Yes, John, hi.”

“Mr Norrell told me you’re writing a thesis on… Uskglass?”

“Well, not quite.”

“I’d be perfectly willing to have a meeting or something, if you’d like. I’m sorry. I was probably a bit rude before? I haven’t slept well and hadn’t gotten any coffee and… I’m very sorry. I’m not an asshole.”

John wasn’t quite sure why this man thought he needed to apologize, maybe it was just working with people that made him both strange and overly apologetic. Either way, he could accept an apology.

“It’s fine. Really.”

“Right. Well, yes. I’m usually here. If you want to talk.”

“Except when you’re not?”

“Right, uh, maybe give us a call just to be sure?”

John nodded, said good bye and left, feeling a bit less wary of the other John, somewhat disappointed in the progress he’d made and desperate to get home to his Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen. I knew ALL ALONG that he would have a boyfriend, I just didn't know how cute they would be together.

**Author's Note:**

> Childermass will be a creep, I'll add warnings if it gets REALLY bad, promise.


End file.
